Smoke And Mirrors
by irradiation
Summary: C4 UPLOADED! It's raining outside. What do our favorite characters think? A series of drabbles about the characters of Tron:Legacy and the rain.
1. chapter ONE

**A/N:** Hey! I've been trying to dust off the rust building on my writing skills, since all these work and editorial stuff has been somewhat limiting to my writing style. Please read, rate and review!

_Disclaimer: The Tron franchise isn't mine, but I wish it were so._

_**SMOKE AND MIRRORS**_

The startling sound of breaking glass made Sam Flynn jump out of his bed.

The bluish-white lines of his armor began to glow as he walked towards the main living area of his father's retreat on the outlands beyond TRON City. The lights remained subdued and even if there was no wind in the house, the area was as cold as a meat locker.

He used the illumination from his hands to search the dining room, looking for the gleam of the broken shards. Nothing. He slid his hand across the smooth wall, the barrier disappearing to reveal all the glassware and cutlery for the dining area. Nothing. He slid the surface again to reveal a receptacle for prepared food on one side and bottled vials of energy in another. He took two black vials, knowing that despite the hangover, overenergizing would be the only way for him to be able to sleep soundly after being awoken in the middle of the night.

Swiping again to close the cupboard, he made his way to the living room. The ornate clocks, the statues and the legs of the chairs were all intact. The go board, the vases and the books were untouched as well.

Even before he approached, he knew Quorra was knocked out, her snoring reverberating through the corridors leading to the rooms. This unusual, even quirky behavior rivaled that of his roommate in his college dorm. Sam remembered mentally remarking that one of the reasons why he dropped was because of the freight train sleeping above him.

He turned the other way around. This was supposed to be his room, but it was empty. Wait.

He ran back and opened the door.

The sight that welcomed Sam was a perfectly neat bedroom. Everything was as Sam left it, the books, the lightcycle models beneath the lampshade, was pristine and untouched.

Except for the full-length mirror.

The mirror was shattered, pieces of it scattered on the floor, turning into droplets of quicksilver and merging with the translucent flooring. Suffusing those droplets with white light were bits, scattered in small amounts. An unusual saying of Quorra came back to him: "If there's bits, there's deresolution." Somebody was there.

Sam found him eventually. The minimal glow on the program's armor made it hard for him to be visible, but Sam did see him, against the floorboard of the bead, his feet prone with his arms on his laps. The glow on the right hand confirmed Sam's suspicions, bits slowly falling to the ground like condensation from a container of cold water.

His childhood hero's head slumped, and Sam caught it, slowly assisting it while he pulled out the identity disk of the program. Putting it on top of the study table, he lifted the heavy, muscular body and rolled it onto the bed. Sam sat by the study table, activating the holodisplay on the disk.

It was easier to fix programs instead of ISOs. Compared to the triple-stranded DNAesque code composed of coalesced information within ISOs, the code of programs was represented in a form akin to a shuffling deck of glassy cards. It was theoretically easier to find damaged code and debug it in programs, but half a millicycle passed and Sam Flynn was lying half-awake, staring at a broken glass card twirling, and as Sam's vision doubled from insomnia, mocking him. Removing the card caused the healthy white of the disk to turn purple and elicited some unwelcome grunts from his patient. Sam slid the cards aside. He accessed the memory storage of the disk, looking for inspiration.

Sitting in front of the now-blazing fireplace that wasn't burning fire at all, Sam watched the opaque force field dissolve into the orderly row of dots that defined it when he first came to this place. The city was also starting to light up in the distance, the equivalent of morning in the eternal night of the Grid. Sam's adrenaline rush was starting to taper off. His eyes were already starting to shutter when a rough voice made his eyelids shutter open.

"My User was your mentor, was he not?"

Sam replied, "Not really. He's more like my stepfather. Somewhat like you and my dad."

Tron showed a faint hint of a frown. "Where's Flynn?" Sam cracked a smile. "Over here." The comment was intended to be sarcastic, but as Tron's expression turned into a worried one, Sam decided to tell him the truth.

"He reintegrated with Clu."

"But that means…" Tron wasn't able to finish the thought. Sam stared at the intensifying glow in the distance, knowing that his guest was aware of the side effects of Clu's reintegration. Predicting the emotions that he might elicit should he confirm that train of thought, he decided to derail it instead and go up and away from that.

"You didn't fail. I saw what happened through his disk. He chose to reintegrate. Maybe, I guess that it was my fault." Tron raised an eyebrow, and Sam noticed that his cool expression was morphing into something else, a combination of regret, pain and hate. Fortunately, as Sam was about to speak, Tron changed the conversation.

"How did you find me?"

"You washed up over there," Sam said, pointing in the general direction of the Portal. "I found you sprawled and coughing, so I took a recognizer and flew you back. Why did you punch the mirror?" The words flew out of Sam's mouth before he was able to stop them. He braced himself for the answers.

"Flynn was my friend, you know. And now, I don't have anyone left."

Sam knew that he was just a poor substitute for his father's genius, a juvenile delinquent instead of a visionary. He didn't know why but those words from Tron stung.

"You said that Alan was your User?" Sam decided to skip the conversation, an idea in his mind coalescing, something to inspire the mighty warrior in front of him, bring back his fight…

Sam took Tron, placing his arms across his broad and sculpted shoulders, leading him to the lightjet. His companion's posture straightened to ramrod hardness, as if remembering old times.

"Together, we are going to change the world."

_**FIN**_

**A/N:** So, whaddya think?

I would like to thank the author of Tron: Adagio and Restitution from the Tron-verse, Greg Bear from Halo: Cryptum, Daft Punk, U2 and Bruno Mars for inspiration**. I'm going to continue this story** but please don't be too demanding, since I'm in the last quarter of my senior year and there are a lot of things to finish, a newspaper included. Thanks for reading and **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	2. chapter two: IN THE BEGINNING PART ONE

**A/N:** Greetings, Readers! I didn't expect that I had free time, but now I have it and I must obviously exploit it for creative purposes. Again, please read, rate and review! (This is Tron/Flynn friendship with added Tron/Yori. Hope you enjoy!)

_DISCLAIMER: The Tron franchise isn't mine but if I win the lottery, I'll buy it in a heartbeat._

_Smoke and Mirrors: __**IN THE BEGINNING: PART ONE**_

**11-11-1982**

Encom Mainframe

Encom Building One

Paramus, New Jersey

More than two hundred seventy cycles had passed since the first I/O tower lit up, connecting programs and users across the mainframe. All of them had since been activated. It was no longer an uncommon sight to see a bright beam of focused light streak through the place, hit a tower and give the programs a purpose again. More programs were roaming through the streets, free from the strict protocols of the Master Control Program. All that remained of the MCP's constabulary had switched their allegiance, maintaining peace and order instead of restricting and corralling the programs.

It was utopia.

Tron was walking on the rim of the arena wall. He was bored. After receiving not a single bit of communication from Alan-One for about twenty-seven millicycles. He had nothing to do, as his function in the mainframe was complete. He had already terminated or restored the rampant programs, and the rest just seemed to fall into place, robbing him of a job. The arena was still being used but the frequency of the Games diminished from 24/7 fighting to almost nil. It seems that everyone was preoccupied with users and fulfilling their functions, and with the fast-paced life, nobody was preoccupied with a security program and a circular pit in the ground anymore.

He was curious as to why everyone was busy, as server logs indicated that even before the MCP, programs were never seen interacting with users at the observed rates. Maybe it was the novelty, maybe it was the enjoyment of freedom long denied or of tasks piled up on the plates of both the Users and the Programs.

Tron continued orbiting around the center of the arena, precariously balancing himself, bored beyond all measure. He tried to communicate with Yori, but she was preoccupied with helping Dumont keep order in his I/O tower. Something pinged his system, something like combustion and he had to stop for a moment to regain his composure.

He mentally reached for Ram. His systems pinged an error. _Oh wait, Ram's dead._

His thought processes looped back to Yori. She had been growing increasingly distant, either working for her own User or doing something else. Something was whispering in his mind that she was drunk on her own freedom. Tron ignored those generalizations. He knew that Yori had self-control, but she may be preoccupied, and of course, out of respect and personal space, he confined those thoughts and stored them for perusal when the time was right.

"I asked her. She does not feel the need for commitment yet."

Flynn was standing behind him, balanced but not as stable as he. Flynn had his arms outstretched, like a lightjet trying to attain balance after an engine was knocked off its wings. He finally fell off balance, arms still outstretched but in an amused expression. Tron's face contorted, and without flinching, he jumped after Flynn, helping to right his friend's orientation and landed on the ground with a graceful, somewhat practiced thud.

Flynn dusted himself, an old habit picked up from the outside world, as there was no dust in the mainframe, or any particulate, for the matter. "I have a special project in mind. However, I cannot execute it on the mainframe, as it would end up wiping quite a lot of precious ENCOM data. And I guess, we cannot risk that, can't we?"

Tron raised an eyebrow. "What is this special endeavor?" Flynn had an unusual daredevil streak, and this project required isolation, which means I was tricky, dangerous, daredevil or all three.

"I want to build a system where all information is accessible, programs run in perfect synchronization and the condition enable virtual solutions to be tangible answers. In other words, a perfect system, a mirror of the outside."

No wonder Yori didn't sign up.

"I have been cataloguing programs to transfer, a small percentage of this mainframe. You are the last one I asked." Flynn said. He was unusually serious, his eyes piercing instead of friendly.

"I know that this may entail quite a sacrifice, as I figured out your, um…" Flynn twisted his hand, looking for the right word, "…budding relationship with Yori may cause you to decline, but if we reach the goals of the system, she may be persuaded to join you. And I promise, the end result will be a thousand times better."

If Tron left and rectified the new system, Yori may be able to come. But there is still a possibility that she may decline. Even though, to build a whole new world for her and for his greatest friend would be quite the achievement.

"I agree."

Flynn's serious look turned into an ecstatic one. Taking Tron by the shoulder, he smirked.

"Let's roll."

_**FIN**_

**A/N:** Whew! Thanks for reading all the way. The third chappie will contain the second part of this story, along with a special sneak peek of the surprise in the fourth chapter. :D

_(Today's chapter inspired by the first stanza/line of Today my Life Begins by Bruno Mars. Yay, inspirational songs!)_

**PLEASE READ, RATE AND REVIEW, I BEG THEE :D**


	3. chapter three: IDLE CYCLES

**A/N:** Greetings, Readers! This is a pretty LONG chappie, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! This chappie is dedicated to my reviewers and subscribers! Thank you for keeping my email inbox full and my heart content! Please read, rate and review! :D

_DISCLAIMER: The Tron franchise isn't mine, but if I get a genie, it will be the first thing I'll wish for._

_Smoke and Mirrors: __**IDLE CYCLES**_

Tron's face was aglow from the light of the solar sailer's rails, the huge beams of light highlighting his agitated expression as the sailer sped towards the portal. He had just finished another set of diagnostics, their results indicating that he was in extremely good condition. He noticed that he was showing some signs of paranoia, but whether it was from his own security protocols or from Clu's tampering, he could not tell. Although he, like any other program, cannot sleep like users do, he did not feel the lack of hibernation, as most programs do when not required to fulfill their function. It wasn't from his own roots as a security program, it was something else, something he knew deep inside his sectors and his coding, but something that felt so distant, it was entirely alien.

After what happened, he didn't seem to know himself anymore.

His thoughts shifted to the son of Flynn. No, Sam. He corrected himself. Sam was asleep in a car retrofitted for his needs as a User. Restoring the system was tiring for Sam, as his experience in his father's admin powers was limited. As he still has to attend to the world outside the Grid, Sam used to sleep in the journey to the Portal. As Sam was sleeping, Tron had free time on his hands. And with the lack of work, came a need from habit, a need to perform his duty. Since Sam had slept, Tron's sweep protocols have scanned the entire sailer more than ten times, all of the sweeps reporting negative.

Now, he had the time he hated the most, the time to look back.

Tron had been so busy since the start of the Grid, clearing out new sectors, controlling the high-spirited functions like Zuse and destroying the gridbugs. But when he gets some free time, thoughts of Yori flood his system and he experienced regret at leaving her. That had been somewhat bearable, as Flynn's promised echoed in his head, his promise that he and Yori will be together again. But now, with Flynn's sacrifice and his time as Rinzler, Tron scorned free time, Ophelia, Shaddox, Yori and Clu haunting him in his dreams and idle cycles. In hibernation, he was forced to stay unmoving as the four's fates vividly replaying in his head, images of grief, sorrow and rage. Sam noticed and suggested that he stay awake until he can face them. To this effect, he overrode Tron's hibernation, keeping him alert until he decided that he could face everything.

Tron's eyes shut momentarily.

His alertness immediately returned, along with a feeling of horror. Was his personality as Rinzler resurfacing, reasserting its control? He tried to resist, tried to fight against the undertow of unconsciousness.

He failed.

Tron fell on the deck of the Sailer, his body hitting the floor with a soft thud.

The light was the first thing he noticed.

Everything was glowing in his vision. He was standing, but he could not make out the outlines of a wall, a floor or a ceiling. He knew that he was lying prone on the floor of the Solar Sailer, but the place in his vision wasn't it. He tried moving, but his arms would not respond. Even though, quick diagnostics reported his condition as perfectly functional.

A figure stepped in front of him. Tron could not see where she came from, but she was an extremely familiar figure. Her features were exactly the same since he left her on the ENCOM system. She smiled and his armor unlocked.

"Yori."

She smiled. "Tron, I know that you have regrets about coming to the Grid. But I know of how great your deeds are in this new world. You have been the protector of everyone that came your way, and your hard work had born fruit. Unfortunately, I am sorry that our circumstances forbid m to being with you."

She let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry. I wish that I had accepted Flynn's offer, but my own faults overrode what I knew was right. Do not blame yourself for what had happened. After all, you are not omnipotent. Whatever you do, know that even though we are far, I am watching you until fate dictates we meet again. Farewell, my hero."

Tron was struck speechless. As he was about to talk, to say farewell or to ask the billion queries pooling in his mind, Yori was enveloped with a bright glow, which dulled and revealed his next guest. He did not recognize her aror, but the glow of symbols on her forearm and the feisty grin on her face told him that she was Ophelia. He bolted out one question.

"Am I derezzed?"

She let out a hearty laugh. "Good heavens, no. You're in the middle ground between hibernation and deresolution. I don't know how it works, personally." She chuckled, and Tron had to let out a sigh, causing her to smile more. "But I assure you, you're here for as long as it takes for us to say what we have to say."

"Tron." She began, "What happened was not your fault. The cycles have been chaotic, but even though what happened was horrible, it isn't you fault. Just because TRON City was named after you doesn't man that all that happens in it is your fault. And do not think we are gone forever. When the right time manifests, the miracle will happen again. And I might see you again. You still have a lot of favors owed. If I get back, you owe me a drink with Shaddox at the End of Line."

She smirked and her form changed. An man was now standing in front of him, his age showing but his vitality contrasted with it. His expression looked as dangerous and daredevil as it have been kilocycles ago, the day he invited him to come to the grid.

"I'm sorry, Kevin. It was my fault. I should have been stronger to stop Clu, save you and prevent the Grid from falling apart."

Kevin Flynn facepalmed. "Weren't you listening to Ophelia and Yori when they said that you shouldn't blame yourself for everything. Maybe it was partly my fault too, for dreaming too much about the perfect system. Or maybe it was my fault that I removed the Sirens from the End of Line."

Kevin let out a laugh and Tron laughed with him. Good times.

"Even though the challenges may seem hard, don't give up. Every problem has a solution, Tron. You just have to find it."

Quorra sat in front of Sam's computer. She was pleased with how fast the restoration was going. Sam had found a few disks that Alan Bradley wrote as repair tools for Tron and with some reprogramming techniques learned from his freshman years, refashioned the repair tools to work with the Grid. The simulation that Tron was now encountering was Quorra's addition. After pulling together all the memories from Flynn's identity disk and her own's she had created simulations of people extremely close to Tron. She created it as to help Sam restore Tron. He worked on Clu's damage, while she worked with his morale. The restore program was working as perfectly as she had hoped and the repair was nearly complete. But to her surprise, the simulation program had not yet terminated. There was one person Tron had to meet in the simulation, but Quorra was sure that she only programmed three of them. Terminating the simulation might leave Tron unresponsive in real life and catatonic in the Grid.

The program indicated that Flynn's time was over and the unidentified guest initiated.

Whoever it was, Quorra hoped that it would help them much and not undo their progress instead.

Flynn bade his farewell disappearing in a white glow. The whole place resonated and Tron had to shut his eyes to prevent the blinding light from searing his eyes.

When he opened it, he was somewhere else. From Flynn's stories, he inferred that he was in a place that Users would call a park. Trees were spaced evenly between benches and greenery filled his vision. On a lone bench, a man was sitting, obviously waiting for someone. The person turned and disappeared.

Tron felt that someone was behind him. Turning, he saw a man. He was showing signs of age, like Flynn but he looked more dignified than decrepit.

"Alan-One."

"I realize that this would be the first time we have met in person, but I'm glad you recognized me."

"We look alike, remember?"

"And I am here to tell you something."

The next instant, they were sitting in a bench. The trees rustled calmly and a distant gushing sound was audible. Alan started to speak. "I know from your expression that you have problems. What are those, I do not know. I guess that that is not for me to hear. I programmed this for Flynn to use if ever you had problems, and I can see now is the time."

Alan took a breath.

"I learned this the hard way with Kevin when he first approached me. If you know that what you are fighting for is right, never give up. Never let anyone bring you down, because they will exploit your weaknesses forever. Remember that to win the game, you must finish the fight. There may be obstacles along the way, but don't let them get you. You are special, Tron, and I know that you know that within you. You can change the world, but remember that you are not alone. You have friends, and they will help you every step of the way."

Tron's mind flashed with images. Sam, Quorra, Kevin, Ophelia, Ram, Shaddox, the thousands of programs within TRON City.

"Believe in them and they will never betray you. Believe in yourself and you can change the world."

With that, everything disappeared, and Tron's felt a hard wind blowing him upward.

His eyes opened.

He was in Sam's room, Sam looking at him curiously. He was sitting at the foot of the bed. The clear windows to his right showed that the Portal was near.

"I was worried that something happened to you. I found you lying on the deck. I admit, you're pretty heavy."

Sam laughed and Tron laughed with him. "I apologize."

"Good dreams?"

"Yes."

As the Sailer halted and Tron led Sam back to the portal, he smiled to himself. It was the first time he felt unburdened, without agitation or worry. As Sam disappeared upward into the beam of the portal, Tron let out a grin.

"_I can dream again. And together with him and everyone, I can change the world."_

_**FIN**_

**A/N:** Whew! This is my longest single chapter. It was exhausting to write this as I'm pretty strained this past week, but thanks to the miracles of caffeine, I was able to write this chapter straight to the end.

_(Today's chapter inspired by Tron: Adagio! Please read that fic too, it's awesome! Thanks also to Starbucks Coffee and the TRON community at deviantart. Thanks also to Katy Perry's song 'Thinking of You." Also, thank you to spacebabie of Restitution. :D)_

**PLEASE READ, RATE AND REVIEW, I BEG THEE :D**


	4. chapter four: IN THE RAIN

**A/N:** Greetings, Readers! I'M VERY VERY SORRY PEEPS! I had quite a hectic schedule, with our JS Prom and our intramurals consecutively occurring, but even though, I managed to sneak this up. Thanks for not giving up on me!

_DISCLAIMER: The Tron franchise isn't mine but I'm willing to accept it. C'mon Disney!_

_Smoke and Mirrors: __**IN THE RAIN: PART ONE**_

Quorra cannot comprehend the droplets of water falling from the dull gray sky, even though she holds the secrets to man's mysteries. It was an alien concept, something unfamiliar, and yet so soothing. The pinpricks of cold washing her over felt invigorating, even though the clime of the sky appeared otherwise.

She caught some of the rain in her cupped hands, tossed it skyward and started spinning. _I'm going to enjoy every minute of it,_ she thought.

Sam was worried. Not only was the river water rising, his dad's prized Ducati was outside, having been moved to accommodate and extra bed for Quorra, and worse, she was outside, spinning like a top. Sam didn't even know what to do, to move the Ducati, get everything ready if the water climbs any higher or get Quorra in before she catches a cold.

Sam suddenly found himself smiling._ Maturity comes at unexpected times._

Alan looked outside. It had been raining for the last few days, almost continuously, but strangely, not as hard as a hurricane. As the hot cup of coffee in his hand fogged the window, he mused about Sam. His curious statements about being right, his sudden desire to take over the company, _what had triggered it? _He tried thinking about anything that would cause such a change. Something sentimental? _Or something else?_ Is it possible that…

Nah, he thought. But as he returned, his eyes caught a copy of Sherlock Holmes, and he remembered, _"If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable must be the truth."_

Nah.

Edward Dillinger Jr. had received the terrible news one rainy day, when the skies were open in a hellish downpour. The distant rumble of lightning accentuated his mother's speech. He's imprisoned. _We have to work together now to survive, Ed? _He remembered nodding absently as the words echoed in his head and his response jammed in his throat. From that day on, he hated rainy days, hated the wet and clammy sensation from his hands as memory after memory flowed to him, every time the rain started.

But as the glint of a new message in his command prompt reflected partially in his glasses, he had to smile.

Not all rainy days are bad ones.

As Richard Mackey finally finished moving all his possessions into neatly arranged boxes, he signaled for the maintenance crew to pick them up and place them in his new office. He had just received the memo, noting that in a shareholders' meeting, a cabal lead by Sam Flynn had ushered in that old geezer Bradley as the new CEO of Encom. After all he had done for the company, including leading it through several profitable years and outing major project after major project, some spoiled brat who doesn't care about the company enough to release its cash cow for free replaces him with an doddering old man who thinks such technical achievements should be donated to Luddites in schools.

As he checked his smartphone, he was surprised to see shares in Encom suddenly rise twenty percent just the week after the announcement. Mackey sighed. _The shareholders giveth, and the shareholders taketh away._

Clu stared out of the window of his personal transport. The rain, a natural phenomenon in the world of the users was pounding on the hard light viewport. He saw the rain as imperfection, as it interfered with the goings-on, and destroyed the natural rhythm of the perfect everyday cycle. More importantly, it postponed the cycle of events, the change of hands, the triumph of Programs over Users.

As the rain abated, Clu saw his two targets walking. He landed the transport, disembarked with his loyal Guard and moved on as the transport lifted him high in the sky. _The next time my flyer will land, I shall be the victor, the ruler and the dominator._

He waited.

"Flynn! Am I still to create the perfect system?"

_**FIN**_

**A/N:** Whew! Thanks for reading all the way. I still have three stories from this set, but I can't really consider them drabbles like these, since they're pretty long and drabbles are meant to be short, right? The next chapter is Tron-centric, so stay-tuned!

_(Today's chapter inspired by Stargate-SG1's final episode. Yay, inspirational series!)_

**PLEASE READ, RATE AND REVIEW, I BEG THEE :D**


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